


The Deepest Desires of the Heart

by mobilicordis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Drarry, Fifth Year, Get-Together Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius is innocent, The Golden Trio, golden trio has a rough time, harry lives with wolfstar, my take on accidental magic, sixth year, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilicordis/pseuds/mobilicordis
Summary: Alternate Title: The Accidental Erasure of Basically Everything from the mind of Harry PotterDraco Malfoy has many regrets. Nearly all of them lead back to one moment in a robe shop when he was eleven years old. When he let his ego drive away the person he wanted most to like him: Harry Potter.When his magic and emotions run amok after taking the Dark Mark, Draco wishes for nothing more than to start over. He wants a second chance at friendship. A chance at redemption. His magic grants his wish.Eleven-year-old Harry wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom, in a house where two men who claim to be his guardians tell him that he is actually turning sixteen tomorrow. They soon discover that Harry has lost every memory of the last five years of his life.Any memory that could have possibly affected his relationship with Draco Malfoy is now gone, and Harry must reform his opinions of his life. He must decide for himself who to trust.





	1. Prologue I: A Brush With Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey anyone who clicked on this fic! Thanks so much for coming, and let me explain a few things.  
> 1\. This fic takes a bit of world building, so the first couple of chapters are a kind of prologue (the first of which takes a lot from canon, as its basically a revamp of the Department of Mysteries)  
> 2\. I take a lot of liberties with magical theory in this story, so if anything needs explaining, please let me know.
> 
> I hope you can stick with me as I try my hand at my first longer fic. This should be an interesting experience.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the story! Comments are much much much appreciated!

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius jeered to Bellatrix, only to be hit with another jet of red light, directly to his chest. Harry froze, watching his godfather fall backwards, shock written into the lines of his face, towards the veil.

Harry’s arm went limp, releasing Neville to fall to the ground, but Harry was already jumping down the stairs, nearly tripping as he took giant leaps to get to his godfather. Sirius was falling, and he couldn’t make it in time.

A blur crossed Harry’s vision, and a body slammed into Sirius, sending his limp form sideways, away from the gaping mouth of the veil. Harry’s wand was half-raised, ready to fight off Sirius’ new attacker, only to realize it was Lupin, his thin form curled over Sirius protectively. Harry continued towards them, and Dumbledore came from the side and got to them first. He pushed Lupin away from Sirius’ still body, and the werewolf fell back on his rear, wrapping his arms around himself shakily. The sight set a coil of fear in Harry’s stomach. Please, he has to be alright. He has to.

It was then that Harry realized Bellatrix had slipped from the dais and was running towards the exit. He could not let her get away, not after what she’d done to his friends and his godfather. He took one last look at the trio huddled on the dais before rushing after Bellatrix, ignoring Lupin calling out to him from behind.

He chased Bellatrix up the benches of the chamber and out into the room with the brain tank. She shattered the glass, spilling water across the floor, and Harry dodged his friends in his dash to get to the Death Eater.

He burst out into the revolving room just in time to see Bellatrix disappear through one of the doors, and the room began to spin.

“Where’s the exit?” he called to the room, and it slowed, opening one of the doors out to the lifts. He raced down the hallway, ignoring a twinge in his ankle, and found that one of the lifts was already moving, sending Bellatrix up towards the atrium. Harry bashed the other button, calling down the lift, and quickly followed her ascent.

He forced his way from the lift at the top in time to see Bellatrix nearing the telephone booth lift, and he gave chase. She looked back and aimed a spell at him that he dodged by jumping behind the fountain.

“Little baby Potter, come to avenge his godfather,” Bellatrix mocked in a baby voice, before roaring, “SHOW YOURSELF!”

Hatred surged within Harry, and he knew what he had to do. He stood, throwing himself from behind the fountain, and pointed his wand at Bellatrix, screaming “CRUCIO!” Bellatrix screamed as the spell hit her, falling to the ground and writhing in pain. Harry revelled in the feeling, stepping towards her, holding her under his power as the spell burned in her veins. She deserved any pain she got for what she’d done.

But then she stopped. And she laughed maniacally. And she stood up straight, unharmed. Harry’s wand fell to his side in his confusion. “Did you really think you could use an Unforgivable, baby Potter? You have to want it, you have to enjoy the other’s pain. How about I show you how it’s done?” Harry ducked as Bellatrix fired the Cruciatus, barely making it back behind the fountain before she fired again, blasting off the arm of the centaur.

They fired back and forth, destroying various parts of the fountain, when Harry’s scar erupted with pain. He cried out, clutching his head, and was unable to defend himself from Bellatrix’s next spell, which hit him in the shoulder. It felt like acid burning his skin.

“Give me the prophecy, you pathetic little boy!” Bellatrix screamed. Harry felt another hot spell rush right past his ear, singeing his hair. He dropped lower.

“I don’t have it!” he called back. The pain in his scar grew ever stronger. “It’s gone! Shattered!”

“YOU LIAR!” Bellatrix’s voice was closer now. “YOU HAVE IT!”

“It’s gone!” Harry said, standing and turning to face the witch. His scar burned enough to make his eyes water. “I busted it! So run along to your precious Dark Lord and tell him Harry Potter got a leg up on him again, because th-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” a high, cold voice said from behind Harry. Harry turned, blinded by the pain in his skull, to see Voldemort standing at the other end of the atrium, bone-white wand pointed directly at Harry.

“My lord! I know the boy has the prophecy! Lucius saw him with it!” Bellatrix pleaded to her master, who turned his snakelike eyes on her, emotionless.

“No, he spoke the truth. He smashed the prophecy.”

“M-- my lord, I was unaware. I was fighting Black, but you must know-”

“I did not come here for you to plead with me, Bella. I came to put an end to this thorn in my side.” With that, he turned his attention fully on Harry, who still found himself frozen with fear, and raised his wand to full attention. “Now, Potter, time for me to do what I should have done fourteen years ago. AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Harry braced for the impact, knowing he would have no time to run or shield himself, but there was a flash of gold that leapt in front of Harry, protecting him. It was the headless wizard statue from the fountain behind him. Voldemort sputtered in confusion before his eyes landed on something behind Harry, in the direction of the lifts. “You!” he cried in anger.

Harry whipped around to see Dumbledore with his arm raised towards the fountain. Immediately, a jet of green shot towards him, but Dumbledore apparated with a crack and reappeared behind Voldemort.

Harry’s muscles moved again as the other statues from the fountain came to life. The witch ran towards Bellatrix, while the house elf and goblin raced towards Harry. They together with the headless wizard ushered Harry towards the edge of the room, away from the battle. The centaur charged at Voldemort, who apparated to where Harry had been standing a moment before. The battle continued, but Harry was surrounded by his guardians, shielded so heavily on all sides that he could hardly see what was happening.

Several minutes later, Harry heard Dumbledore call out to him to shield himself. Harry did so, and a moment later, his golden guards were nothing but puddles of molten gold before him, and Harry leapt up as his shield shattered under the strain of Voldemort’s spell. Another spell rushed towards him, but Harry felt a pull in his chest and was suddenly much closer to Dumbledore than previously, and he felt a shield of powerful magic surround him.

The dark wizard stood on the plinth in the center of the fountain, and as Harry watched, the water in the fountain raised up into a glass-like orb, encasing Voldemort within. The wizard struggled against his suffocating enclosure for a few seconds before disapparating. The orb of water shot outwards and onto the floor, though the shield around Harry caused it to splash up over him in an arc, falling in a ring around him.

Bellatrix screamed from where she fought against the witch statue, and Harry made to move towards Dumbledore, sure that Voldemort had retreated.

“No! Stay within the shield, Harry.” The headmaster’s voice was frightened, and his eyes flicked around warily.

Harry’s skull was rent in two as his scar exploded with a pain he had never known. He felt his legs give out and he met the ground, but the pain became so bad that he no longer felt his body. He heard voices cry out around him, but his own screaming drowned them out until he choked on air and was forced silent.

He was lost in pain, a dark coil of power wrapping itself around his prone form, heavy pressure pressing in on his battered skull. It broke through the edge of his consciousness and melded into him, entwining its being with his. When the entity spoke, Harry’s jaw moved with it, his voice escaping in a broken rasp.

“Kill me now, Dumbledore…”

Harry existed in pain. He was pain. And he would give anything for it to end. He grunted as air came back into his lungs. He tried feebly to move his body, but succeeded only in a jerk of his torso.

“You’ve lost, old man.”

Images flitted through his head. His mother, standing defiantly in front of him. Falling for him. A man in a turban with two faces, one of which screamed for Harry’s death.

This time, Harry was able to get his arms beneath himself, and pushed his upper body up. He saw Dumbledore step cautiously towards him, sinking down to one knee. Harry grunted as pain lanced through him again.

A massive snake, guided by a teenage boy. Its fang protruding from Harry’s arm. A rat that became a man, a professor who was really a werewolf.

His arms collapsed, and he gasped for air, desperately looking to Dumbledore for help.

“Harry?” his headmaster asked in concern. Harry opened his mouth, but a cry came out as pain stabbed into his skull again.

A voice spoke in Harry’s head, “You are so weak. So vulnerable. And I have taken you.” He saw himself in a mirror, but as he twitched in pain, his eyes reddened, his pupils turned to slits, and his face melted into that of the dark lord.

Harry gasped and reached out for Dumbledore, desperate to make the pain end.

“Harry, you must listen to me. You have to fight him, Harry, however you can,” Dumbledore urged.

Cedric’s body slammed into the ground, the haze of the green spell still glowing in his eyes. His parents’ ghosts, shielding him from Voldemort. Sirius fell to Bellatrix’s spell over, and over, and over. A surge of anger welled up within Harry, and he came back to himself.

His body was utterly spent, and he lay limp on the floor. He looked past Dumbledore to see the ministry filling with witches and wizards flooing in, all trying to figure out what they were seeing.

This time, Harry showed Voldemort a few images of his own. Ron and Hermione, loyal to him year after year, laughing with him, hugging him. Dumbledore, a guiding hand in his time of confusion. Lupin, caring for him, teaching him about his parents, teaching him the Patronus charm. Sirius, sending love in his letters, holding him tightly against his chest. His parents, smiling down at him from the mirror of Erised.

“You’re the weak one, not me!” Harry cried out in his mind. “You’ll never know love, or friendship, and I feel sorry for you.”

Sirius shielded himself from the spell, Cedric dodged the killing curse, the basilisk retreated, Quirrel fell beneath Harry’s touch. He had defeated Voldemort before. He could do it again. Harry felt the coil releasing him.

Harry cried out, his back arching from the floor as Voldemort’s influence left him. The water that had been surrounding his shield now rose in a violent vortex around him as the coil of evil whisked away from his body. Harry’s vision flickered in and out, his breathing ragged between screams, until it was over.

A final whisper issued in Harry’s ear, “You will lose, Harry Potter. You will lose everything.”

Harry’s body collapsed, immobile. He gasped for air, but every breath felt like a knife in his chest. Suddenly, a blurry face appeared above him.

“Harry, my boy, are you alright?” Dumbledore asked, his voice tight. Harry could only nod. Shakily, he pushed himself up, and Dumbledore grasped his arm to help pull him to his feet. Cold metal was placed in his hand, and he looked down to see his glasses.

“Thanks, professor,” he said, though his abused throat made his voice come out as a croak.

“By Merlin,” another voice rang through the empty room, “was that really You-Know-Who?”

Harry slipped on his glasses and looked up to see the Minister of Magic walking towards him, several people flooing in behind him.

“Yes, Cornelius, I’m afraid it was,” Dumbledore replied stonily. His grip on Harry’s arm tightened.

By now, there was a small army of ministry employees and reporters that had flooded the lobby, and magical cameras were snapping left and right. Harry tilted his head down and away, as if it would hide the state of his mind from showing up in the magical photos. Right now, he wanted to scream, wanted to shake all of these people and tell them to wake up! He’s back, why don’t you fear him? He kept his face emotionless.

A small shake of his arm told him that Dumbledore was speaking to him. “Harry?”

He looked up into the aged face of his Headmaster. The man’s eyes were concerned, though his face bore none of it.

“Are you ready to go? We must get you back to school.”

Harry nodded again and felt himself being pulled close to Dumbledore’s body, guided by the hand on his arm to wade through the sea of flashing lights and yelling voices, out of the Ministry of Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Sirius gets a proper trial and Harry gets a new home.


	2. Prologue II: Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns from the Ministry, dreading whatever damage his rash actions have caused. He must face the consequences of the Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long break, but I was having trouble being motivated to write, and I was working on some other things in the meantime. But on a better note, next chapter is going to be so much fun (for me at least...)! This is the last chapter before we get into the thick of the plot, so buckle up!

Stepping out into the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts felt like walking into a heated room from the cold of winter. Harry felt his skin crawl as the chill of dark magic leached from his skin.

“Professor?” he asked numbly, voice still near-gone. “Where… how is everyone?”

“There were no life-threatening injuries sustained today.” Harry felt a breath whoosh from his lungs in relief. “Everyone with more serious injuries has already been admitted to St. Mungo’s. However, your friends and godfather are currently in our very own hospital wing.”

Harry perked up at that, the fog blowing from his mind. Sirius! How did his godfather escape his thoughts?

“M-may I go see them?” he said, his voice gaining strength.

“Of course, they’re probably just as worried for you as you are for them.” Harry nodded and stepped towards the door. “And one more thing, Harry.”

He turned to look at the headmaster, whose face was grave.

“Whatever happens, from this point onward, you must stay safe. We cannot lose you to an impromptu rescue mission like the one you took today. You are not alone in this. There are people who can help you.” He paused, twisting one of the rings on his long fingers. “As much as you may want to deny it, you are important to this war, Harry. Please promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

Harry nodded. “I promise, sir.”

“Very well,” the old man said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Go see your godfather.”

Harry walked shakily from the room, his body still weakened from Voldemort’s influence. Despite his fatigue, the steps and corridors of Hogwarts melted away beneath his feet at the promise of seeing Sirius and his friends.

The Hospital Wing was full when Harry pushed through the doors, nearly every bed filled with D.A. members, Order members, and worried parents and friends. Everyone seemed to stop when Harry entered however.

“Harry!” Neville cried, breaking the anxious silence. “We weren’t sure what happened to you!” he stood from his seat next to Luna’s bed and crossed over to him. Neville’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, and Harry cried out as the area burst into pain. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t know!”

“”S fine, Nev, I’m alright,” Harry spoke through clenched teeth.

A door opened at the far end of the room and Madame Pomfrey bustled out. “Mr. Potter? What in Merlin’s name?”

“My shoulder,” he grunted. “Bellatrix hexed me.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is it always you?”  Harry shrugged sheepishly. “Very well, come with me. There are a couple men who are dying to see you and I need to check you over.” Harry looked around at all of his friends, some looking at him, some unconscious, all of which he owed a deep apology. He nearly protested her care, but was dragged away by his arm.

“It’s alright, Harry, we’ll see you later,” Ginny reassured him from her place beside an unconscious Ron. His arms were bandaged up past his elbows. Harry would have replied, but he was already dragged into the room off from the main hospital wing, and he found he couldn’t say much of anything.

Sirius lay on the bed, shaky and wan. Professor Lupin leaned sat in a chair beside him, one hand brushing Sirius’ hair from his face, the other holding Sirius’ hand. They were leaned in close together, speaking in tones too low for Harry to hear. Harry knew they were close. They had been best friends at Hogwarts, of course they were close. But the way they sat together right now, made Harry think that there was possibly something else happening.

“Harry!” a voice called, pulling Harry from his thoughts. Sirius was attempting to sit up in bed, and looked as though he was attempting to get out of bed. Lupin pressed him back down into the mattress.

“Stay down, Pads. You have to rest,” Harry’s former professor said. At the same time, Madam Pomfrey pushed Harry towards and down into a chair beside the beside Sirius’ bed. His godfather looked even worse up close. His skin was nearly gray it looked so bloodless. His eyes were absolutely fatigued, but he still managed to place his entire focus into being concerned over Harry. His heart swelled at the feeling.

“Harry,” Sirius said again, softer this time, “you had us all worried. You alright, kid?” 

Harry nodded. “I’m alright, just a bit shaky.” In truth, now that he was sitting down, now that the danger had passed, the battle was beginning to catch up to him. He was exhausted from his fear for Sirius, shooting countless spells, and later having Voldemort  _ literally  _ take over his body. On top of that, his shoulder now felt like it was being pulled piece by piece from the rest of his body.

“That’s good, that’s really good,” Sirius said, closing his eyes. “I- I was terrified I’d lost you. No one knew where you went.” Harry was embarrassed to find his eyes had begun to sting with tears. If Sirius had been any more lucid, these deep feeling would not have passed through his lips, and Harry was bizarrely thankful for his godfather’s condition at the moment.

“Please take off your shirt, Mr. Potter.” Madam Pomfrey was back with several rolls of bandages, bottles of potions, and jars of salves. Harry sighed, and lifted his arms to take off his shirt. One of them, however, caused excruciating pain to lace up across his arm, shoulder, and into his chest. He barely managed to bite back a yell, but he whimpered instead.

“Harry?” Professor Lupin asked in concern.

“His shoulder’s injured,” Pomfrey answered for him, and Harry was still gritting his teeth through the pain. A moment later, cold air hit his body, and he brought his arms up to cover his now bare chest. He glared at Pomfrey.

“Wipe that look off your face, Mr. Potter. I need to examine your shoulder, and it wouldn’t do to have you injure it further taking off your shirt.” Harry heard Lupin snort, and turned his glare on him instead.

His hands went up in a sign of innocence. “I’ve dealt with her enough every full moon. I deserve a laugh at someone else’s expense.” Harry had to smile a that.

“My, my, Mr. Potter, that’s quite the wound you’ve got there.” Lupin stood to come over as Harry turned to look at his shoulder. He nearly wished he hadn’t.

The skin of his shoulder was mottled red, purple, and brown. It looked almost like a burn. The skin seemed thick and rippled, as if it was forming a layer over itself. There were small swollen puckers that looked like blisters.

“Merlin, Harry, that looks terribly painful. Why didn’t you speak up?” Lupin asked.

“I was worried about Sirius. I wanted to wait until I knew he was alright.”

“Lemme see,” came Sirius’ weak voice. Harry hadn’t even realized he was still awake. Gingerly, he turned that shoulder toward the bed, and Sirius lifted a hand to grasp his arm. His skin was freezing. “Who did this to you?” Sirius hissed.

“Bellatrix.”

“Should’ve known, the bitch loves curses like that.”

“What is it?” Lupin asked. Madam Pomfrey turned Harry back and began to cast spells over his body, focusing on the left side where he was burned.

“It’s a very dark spell. It mimics Muggle acid burns. Typically the injuries of this spell are much more severe and usually require surgery to heal. Mr. Potter here was lucky this was all that came of it.” She put down her wand and picked up a bottle and rag, pouring some of the clear liquid onto it. “Dittany,” she answered to his questioning look. “The contact with your skin won’t be pleasant, but the essence will heal this quickly.” Harry gritted his teeth and endured the rag and various slaves she placed onto him before bandaging his wound.

In the meantime, Sirius had relaxed into sleep, his snores echoing softly in the room.

“How is he?” Harry asked Lupin, who had again taken his seat and had been watching Pomfrey’s procedures with a close eye. He met Harry’s eyes, and the intensity there reminded Harry strangely of the Shrieking Shack two Junes ago.

“He had a close call. That room we found you in, it’s the Death Chamber. That archway is known as the Veil. It is the only known open door between the our world and whatever lies beyond for those who have died.” Harry gasped. The voices he’d heard there, they were the voices of the dead. And to think he’d nearly touched it. “Sirius managed to brush the Veil as he fell, and it completely exhausted him. He had begun to die. If he’d fallen in, we would have lost him forever.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and his eyes sought out Sirius again as soon as he was finished.

Harry’s eyes followed, his chest clenching with fear. He’d been so close to losing Sirius, and he’d had no idea.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Let’s get you into bed.” Harry wanted to argue, but his fatigue fell over him in a wave. He allowed himself to be led from the room with an exchange of goodnights with Professor Lupin, and collapsed into a bed in the main Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey rattled onto him about a sling, his potions, what not to do with his arm, and he nodded at her until his head nearly fell off just to get her to leave him alone. After that, he chatted with his friends well into the night.

Harry was awakened the next morning by a clunking sound.  _ Thunk, thunk, thunk,  _ it went across the floor of the Hospital Wing, nearing him. Groggily, he raised his head to see what the commotion was about. A hulking figure was walking towards the back of the room, and it took Harry’s brain several moments to realize it was Moody he was looking at, and that his wooden leg was the source of the noise.

“Moody?” he asked, pushing himself up with one arm. The man turned to look at him, though his magical eye remained fixed on the door to Sirius’ room.

“Potter. You’re an idiot,” the man said plainly. Harry was taken aback. “How many times will I have to warn you to keep your nose out of Voldemort’s shite?” Harry blinked. “You’re lucky it’s not you I’m here for today, or you’d be getting a harsh lesson in constant vigilance right about now.” With that, he began to clunk across the room once more.

“P-profess,” Harry tried, but the word died in his throat. “Moody, wait!” He pushed out of bed, throwing on the sling on his bedside table and jogging to follow the auror. “Who are you here for?”

“Your idiot of a dogfather.”

Harry snorted at the name. “Sirius isn’t well right now.”

“I’m aware the idiot nearly got himself killed yesterday. Doesn’t change the fact that the minister’s threatening to come to the school himself if I don’t bring him to the Ministry.” Harry’s stomach dropped through the floor.

“T-the Ministry? You’re arresting him?” By now, they had reached the door and Moody yanked it open with the hand that was not on his walking stick. Harry followed the man inside.

“Black!” Moody yelled. Both Sirius and Professor Lupin, who had fallen asleep in his chair with his head on Sirius’ bed, shot up and awake.

“Merlin’s balls, Moody, way to wake a bloke up,” Sirius groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Get up. You’re wanted at the Ministry.” At that, Sirius froze. Lupin stood and held his wand at his side, eyes flicking between Moody, Harry, and Sirius.

“Did you give me up?”

“Hardly. They found you in Malfoy’s memories of the battle yesterday. Saw you fighting alongside the order, against the Death Eaters.”

“So what, they probably think I just switched sides. They’ll still send me to Azkaban if I go with you.”

Lupin stepped subtly between the two of them. “Padfoot, you’re not going back to Azkaban, I’ll make sure of-”

“Shut it, Lupin. They don’t want to send you to the Dementor’s playground. They found more than that in Malfoy’s noggin.”

Sirius sat up in interest. Harry moved to stand beside Lupin. “What else was there?” Harry asked.

“They also found memories from the first war. Malfoy conspiring with Peter Pettigrew to find the location of the Potter’s house.” Harry went cold, memories of the elder Malfoy and Wormtail in the graveyard shot through his mind. Professor Lupin placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and he drew strength from the contact. “When they questioned him about it under Veritaserum, he confirmed that Pettigrew had taken part in the Potter’s deaths, and that he’d had correspondence with the rat since Halloween.”

Some unnamed emotion swelled up in Harry’s chest. He looked to Sirius to see the same feeling reflected in his eyes. He saw hope.

“So you’re saying that…?” Sirius trailed off, as if the sentence was too good to say.

“I’m saying that Bones is trying to expose Fudge as the sham that he is, and people are beginning to believe your innocence. I’m saying that you better get your ass out of bed and get to the Ministry of Magic if you want your freedom.”

Grins broke out on all of their faces as they exchanged joyful looks with one another.

“I get a trial?” Sirius asked, looking better and younger than Harry had ever seen him. Suddenly, he could see the man in his parent’s wedding photo, young and carefree.

“You will if you can get to the Ministry without pissing your trousers,” Moody said scathingly, though his face betrayed his amusement. Harry was beginning to realize that Moody was a master of tough love, and understood why Sirius and Tonks looked up to him so much.

Sirius laughed, gingerly moving to get out of bed. Professor Lupin gave him an arm to pull him up out of bed. He stood shakily and Lupin waved his wand to transfigure his hospital robes into something more formal. Sirius’ face absolutely shone with the grin plastered on it.

“Moony! I’m gonna be free!” Sirius practically sang, grasping both of Lupin’s arms in his grip.

“I know, Sirius. This is what we’ve been waiting for!” Lupin replied, smiling just as big.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, sappy feelings,” Moody interjected, stamping the end of his walking stick on the floor. “Your fiery chariot to justice awaits.” He waved his hand towards the now open door for effect.

“Harry.” When he turned toward the voice, Sirius was already in front of him, his arms open. Harry fell into them, never tiring of the warmth that came from feeling wanted by someone. Sirius squeezed him with his arms wrapped around him, and Harry  _ oofed  _ at the pressure on his shoulder. “Oops, sorry, kid.” Sirius let go and grabbed Harry by his upper arms. He looked deep into Harry’s eyes. “I promised you once, and I’ll promise you again. When I’m free, you’re coming to live with me and Moony. We will be a family, just like we should have been when you were young.”

Harry tried to smile at that, but his lips betrayed him by quivering with emotion instead. Sirius chuckled and grabbed him close again. “I love you, kiddo.” With a final squeeze, Sirius released him and Harry’s body reeled along with his emotions. “Come along, Remus! My fiery chariot to justice awaits!”

Grabbing onto Lupin for support, Sirius limped from the room and out towards the main door of the hospital wing. Moody followed, muttering about “damn Blacks and their theatrics.” Harry felt himself smile yet again as he watched them leave.

~LINE BREAK~

Updates that Harry was given on the trial over the next few weeks were few and far between. To the best of his knowledge, from what Dumbledore, Moody, and occasionally Remus— as he’d been told to call him countless times— had told him, all the evidence needed to acquit Sirius was right in his and Malfoy’s minds. The trial was just a matter of getting the right people to see the evidence and be convinced of its truth.

Veritaserum, Pensieve, Wizengamot. These words floated around Harry’s waking and sleeping selves, spoken by friends and adults, muttered in his dreams, rooting themselves into a seemingly permanent ball of anxiety in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He felt as though it was a repeat of the last summer. No one would tell him what was happening, leaving him to assume the worst.

Harry was kept at Hogwarts, much to his embarrassment, even into the beginning of holiday. He was given a private room to stay in, the room that had been Sirius’ after the battle in the department.

“Mr. Potter, I’ve said it a thousand times. You’ll be released when you’re healed. In case you’ve forgotten, Voldemort nearly melted your shoulder. These things take time to heal.” Professor McGonagall scolded as she packed her belongings in her office.

“I just want to go out, even for a day. Sirius’ trial is public! Why can’t I go?”

“Remus explained it marvelously when he was here. Did you ignore him?” she raised an eyebrow at her insolent student.

“No, I just… I don’t understand why I can’t just-”

“Tensions are running high for everyone in this trial. The crowds scream at the both parties in the courtroom for their supposed involvement with Death Eater activity. The methods of  investigation involved are very trying on your godfather, mentally and physically. Would you be able to keep yourself out of trouble if you were to witness these things?”

“I…” Harry knew he had no argument against her. If something they did was hurting Sirius, he’d be too furious to keep quiet. How did Remus bear it? “No, I guess not.” Helplessness gripped his chest yet again.

She sighed, her face softening. “I know how much he means to you. We haven’t wanted to get your hopes up, but things are looking good right now. We believe this trial will go in Sirius’ favor. In our favor.”

Harry nodded, feeling his chest lighten at his professor’s words.

“It’s late, Mr. Potter. You should be getting off to bed now.” Reluctantly, Harry turned and left her office, trudging his way back to the Hospital Wing.

The next morning, Harry woke to his door opening. He sat up and stuck out his shoulder towards Madame Pomfrey, as per his usual routine. His eyes remained locked on his lap however. Instead of cold hands unwrapping the bandages on his upper arm, a copy of the  _ Prophet  _ was dropped into his lap.

‘ _ MALFOY CONVICTED | BLACK ACQUITTED _ ’ the headline read, and beneath it were printed two parallel photos of a white blond man struggling against his magical restraints, his hair a tangled mess, and a man with well-groomed dark hair standing tall and proud beside Dumbledore.

He’d done it! Sirius was free! Harry ripped his eyes up from the paper, expecting to see Remus beside his bed, but was pleasantly shocked to see his godfather’s smirk instead.

“Sirius!” he cried, throwing his arms around his godfather without hesitation. Sirius’ arms closed around him as well, squeezing him gently.

“Hey, Prongslet,” Sirius greeted. Harry could hear the smile in his voice and when he looked up, he saw it there, shining out of his godfather’s tired face. “I missed you.” This admission had Harry swallowing thickly, and he placed on his head back on Sirius’ chest in his embrace.

“How— how long have you… when—” Harry stuttered as he pulled away.

Sirius chuckled. “Breathe, Harry. I was declared innocent last night, but I was…,” his face fell, and he looked down, “recovering from the trial at Moony’s place.” 

Harry wanted to ask what he meant, but the words died in his throat when Remus walked through the door.

“Good morning, Harry,” his ex-professor greeted, coming up to his bed to pat his uninjured shoulder. He looked exhausted as well. “How’s your shoulder feeling?” 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Honestly, I just want to get out of here.” Both men grinned at him.

“Good thing,” Sirius said, “because we’re breaking you out of here today.” The Marauders shot each other conspiratorial looks, and Harry’s head snapped back and forth, trying to uncover their plan.

“Breaking me out?”

Sirius’ grin widened. “Alongside having my name cleared— and getting a whole bunch of galleons— I also negotiated a request.” Harry blinked at him, waiting to understand the point. “I’m now your legal guardian.”

Harry blinked again. And again. And as his godfather’s words sunk in, his face broke into a grin that stretched his cheeks to the point of pain.

“Get your things packed Harry, we’re going to Grimmauld Place before lunch.”

The events that followed all came together into the best day of Harry’s life. He, Sirius, and Remus all floo’d to Grimmauld Place together and Sirius showed Harry to his bedroom.  _ His  _ bedroom. He unpacked his belongings with Sirius and Remus interjecting at various times to show him something or just to talk to him. Just having someone there for him, who cared about him, made all of his years at the Dursleys feel worth it. And to know he got to spend all summer here. It was almost too much to bear.

The day wound down with him lying on the floor of the sitting room, Sirius and Remus sharing a sofa. Ever since dinner, the two men had been shooting each other looks, having a silent conversation that Harry was only slightly aware was happening.

Finally, they broke their silence. “Harry, we need to talk.” It was Remus that spoke up, and his tone caused Harry to sit up in interest. “There are some things we need to clear up if we’re going to live together. Sirius took over from there.

“Harry, Remus and I are… well, we’re in a relationship. Together,” his godfather explained nervously. Harry looked between them, taking in their apprehensive looks and the way they squeezed their hands between them. They looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Harry said after a time, “Did you think I wouldn’t accept you?” They smiled at him. “If you’re happy together, I’m happy for you.” Sirius let out a whoosh of air and leaned back against the sofa back.

“Thank you, Harry. We are very happy,” Remus said, turning to look at Sirius with a deep affection in his eyes. Harry’s chest fluttered looking at them so in love, until their mouths connected in a kiss.

“Agh! My eyes!” Harry cried, making retching noises. He covered his face, but laughed when a foot gently connected with his good shoulder, pushing him back onto the floor.

“Cheeky kid. You really are James’ son,” Sirius said above him.

“There’s another thing,” Remus said, sounding serious again. Harry uncovered his face and looked up into two guilty pairs of eyes. “We were hoping you could tell us a bit about your relatives. We know you were mistreated there, but we don’t know the half of what went on.”

Harry found he couldn’t look them in the eyes. Memories flashed through his head of a dark, locked cupboard, spiders crawling across the floor, days spent working for his meals before he could even read, hands on him: smacking, pulling, pushing, punching. The fact that he didn’t know he had a name until he went to school.

He told them all of these things, head down and voice quiet. For some reason, reliving the events wasn’t nearly as painful as imagining the disgust that his godfather and… other godfather wore on their faces.

“And sometimes I would try and pull food out of the bin when they wouldn’t give me any, but I usually got sick after doing that. The punishment for being sick was a lot worse than taking food, so eventually I stopped doing even that. I didn’t try to fight it when they locked me in the cupboard. That wasn’t the worst they could do. Usually I could outrun my uncle when he came after me, but sometimes I was too weak from not eating or being sick or-”

“Stop, Harry. Merlin, please stop.” Harry looked up in surprise in the middle of his story to see Remus and Sirius staring down at him, horrified and teary-eyed. Remus, who had interrupted him, now slid onto his knees on the floor and pulled Harry into his arms, holding him against his chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left you there to go through that alone. I should have been there for you.” Harry was shocked, but let himself fall into the embrace anyway. Soon Sirius came down on his other side, holding both him and Remus in his arms.

Harry sat in silence for a moment until the situation became too strange. He snorted a laugh. “Are you two always this cheesy?”

“Shut up and let me love you,” Sirius said, effectively quieting him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next up: Draco takes the Mark


	3. The Dark Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes the Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is largely not proofread, so please ignore any mistakes you see :) I wanted to get this up now, and may go back later and edit.

Draco awoke to his quiet alarm at 7:10. He got into the shower, washed himself thoroughly, and was dressed again by 7:25. His hair was dried, styled, and his pale skin cleared of all blemishes by the time he made it to the breakfast table at 7:30.

Draco’s mother refused to take breakfast in the formal dining room. It was to be used for dinner and lunches with prestigious guests only. Their breakfasts were held each morning at precisely 7:30 in the sun room. This was the only room in the entire manor that didn’t send chills down Draco’s spine. The only room he felt at home in. Draco’s eyes locked onto the empty seat at one end of the table.

“Draco, darling, come and eat. Wilma has prepared your favorite today,” Narcissa greeted her son. Draco tried not to think about why he was being spoiled today as he sat down at the table, placing the linen napkin in his lap. He looked down at the berry preserves and croissant on his plate and tried not to gag. He forced himself to eat with stilted motions. “So, darling, how are you feeling today?” his mother asked, sipping her dark tea.

“I’m alright, Mother. And yourself?” he replied, falling into his learned patterns of speech.

“Just fine dear. Do you have your robes laid out for this evening?” Draco’s stomach clenched at the thought of  _ this evening, _ but he schooled his face into a mask of calm.

“Not yet, Mother. I was a touch late to rising today.” He was conditioned to wake at 7:00, but his inability to fall asleep as of late caused him to push back this time. The extra ten minutes gave him nothing rest-wise, but he kept it for peace of mind.

She tsked at him, affording him a small conspiratorial smirk. “You teenagers always want to sleep in, don’t you?”

Draco nodded back, forcing his lips into the facade of a smile. “Yes, Mother.”

“No matter, I shall have Gelsey take care of it for you. You need to prepare yourself for tonight’s ceremony.”

Draco, who could no longer force another word from his mouth, spent the rest of the meal in silence. He found himself unable to eat as he immersed himself in thoughts of the last couple of months.

* * *

 

Draco woke one Tuesday morning in June to chaos in Hogwarts. While he was supposed to be completing his OWLs that day, everyone was in shock over the night’s events. Rumors flew that someone had broken into the Ministry the previous night, though no source was clear as to whom had done so. What they did know was that several former Death Eaters were found at the scene of the crime, arrested, and taken to Azkaban without trial.

Draco had quickly gotten a hold of Zabini’s copy of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ to learn the facts for himself _. _ He saw his father’s face, hair matted and eyes dark, staring out at him from the front page. It was a booking photo for Azkaban. The headline confirmed what Draco already knew: You-Know-Who had returned, and Draco’s father was working with him once again.

Since last June, Draco had quickly put together in his head the idea that the Dark Lord was back. His parents muttered about the him when they thought Draco could not hear; his father had endless meeting with old acquaintances; he also took up a habit of scratching at his left arm, the one that bore the Dark Mark. It wasn’t until a week before his fifth year started that Draco, too, was let in on the secret. His father introduced him to the Dark Lord and personally nominated him as a potential follower. It burned in Draco’s mind that he never for a second believed Potter was lying about the Dark Lord’s return.

And now, he was faced with the fact that everyone in this room now knew what his family had done. Amidst the Minister’s official statement, and several columnists’ opinions on the matter, there was his father’s arrest, plain as day for all to see, along with a few names Draco recognized from his father’s various meetings.

In shock, Draco handed over the paper and raised his head to take in the reactions of everyone else in the Great Hall. Though the room seemed nearly silent, everyone was speaking. Heads were bent close and voices nearly inaudible as the news spread through the school: Potter was right. Several pairs of eyes lingered on him as well, but fell when he met their gazes. Almost unconsciously, he sought out a certain green gaze that seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

But the Gryffindor table seemed oddly empty today. It seemed Potter’s entire entourage had skipped out on breakfast this morning. Strange, one would have thought that Potter would like to have his “I told you so” moment before the entire school.

Noctua, a majestic eagle owl, swooped down over the heads of the other students to drop a letter on Draco’s untouched plate. Without even staying for a treat, she flapped silently to gain height and swept from the hall. Draco’s stomach clenched as he recognized his mother’s handwriting on the envelope. Receiving a letter from her meant two important things: his mother was safe and able to write him, and she would give him both details and comfort to help him in this situation. Draco ignored the shaking in his hands as he opened the letter.

His eyes flew over the page, absorbing the story of his father’s mission for Voldemort, the trick they played on Potter, his falling for it, and the battle that ensued. A part of him celebrated the fact that his blood traitor cousin was dead, and another part of him cringed at the way that it apparently set Potter off. Knowing that Potter was to blame in any capacity for his father’s arrest made his insides crawl with rage. Draco flicked his wand at the letter, setting it up in flames. His mind raced. He couldn’t very well go and find Potter and curse him down, as he wanted. He would go to speak with his godfather, hopefully being reassured that his father would be released, that their plans were not all lost, that they could still succeed.

He stood quickly from the table. Greg and Vince stood as well. He led them from the Great Hall, telling them under his breath why they, too, should be furious about the events of the previous night.

“Draco?” his mother called him, and he broke from his thoughts. She looked at him with a mixture of worry and love. Draco would be forever grateful to his mother for her support since his father’s arrest.

“Sorry, mother, I was elsewhere.”

“Obviously,” she said fondly. “You’re excused from the table. Why don’t you go out and get some fresh air?”

Draco’s stomach was churning, but the idea of flying was too appealing to pass up. “I think I will.”

Up in the air, the sky flat and gray over his head, Draco’s thoughts assaulted him again. He banked and glided near over the tops of the highest hedges in the garden, nearly brushing them with his feet. His mind, however, was absent, recalling the events of the summer thus far.

Narcissa had been a wreck when Draco arrived home. It was the first time no one had been there to welcome him off the Hogwarts Express, save Wilma the house elf. As soon as he stepped through the floo, his mother was upon him, holding him close to her in a way she hadn’t done since he first left for Hogwarts. It was ill-fitting, his father claimed, for a man of the Malfoy family to seek physical comfort.

A week into summer hols, all hell broke loose in the Malfoy house. Bellatrix, the one to kill their traitor of a cousin and the only Death Eater to escape the battle, took refuge in the Manor. Constantly she taunted Draco with the knowledge that the Dark Lord was coming for him, that he was to be the successor of his father. She would cackle in glee as he stood frozen in shock at the implications of her statement. If he was to join the Death Eater ranks so soon, would he be allowed to complete his schooling? He would surely be expelled on sight for having taken the Mark. Then again, his godfather was a Death Eater, and he was allowed to  _ teach _ at the school. Draco was almost certain he would not be afforded the same opportunity. Surely, as the son of one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal supporters, he would no longer be trusted to stay in school. 

Today would decide for him his future. Today was the day he would take the Mark. As the man of the house, the only free male heir of the Malfoy family, he was now to represent his name in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Draco shuddered to think what horrible plot the Dark Lord had created as his first mission.

Surely…  _ surely  _ the Dark Lord would not ask him to kill Potter. Draco flinched at the idea and his broom jerked beneath him, sending him reeling in the air for a moment until he regained equilibrium. Surely he would not be asked to complete that mission.

Harry Potter was a name known to all pure-blooded children of their generation as far back as they could remember. For most, he was a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness that followed the first war. For the Malfoys, and any other family connected to the Dark Arts, he was the antithesis of everything they stood for. For Draco, he was a metaphorical pea beneath his mattress. Harry Potter, as much as he was loath to admit it, was never far from Draco’s mind.

As a boy, he had heard the story of the Boy Who Lived and received comfort from it. He had seen the darkness his family bore, the depth of their pureblood mania, how they sought to bring the world to its knees for them, and Draco was terrified by it. His father would rant and rave to him, sometimes drunk as he did so, about the benefits of a Muggle- and Mudblood-free world. These talks would leave Draco cowering in fear at the violent and murderous images his father planted in his head. Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, could surely save him from this darkness.

By the time he was eleven years old, Draco had accepted what his father told him about the world. He was no longer deluded about blood equality or Muggle’s benefits to the world. He understood, as every pureblood child he knew was taught, that he was superior and thus deserved respect. He lived by this ideology. When he heard that the rumors were true, that Harry Potter had returned to the wizarding world and was going to Hogwarts with him, a part of Draco’s old hope flashed within him. He could be friends with Harry Potter, gain influence in the world, and at the same time learn what it was like outside of his pureblood world. Needless to say, he was rejected, and with it went his hope of ever changing his ways, let alone his father’s.

Every once in a while, especially this summer, Draco would get a nagging in his mind that called for him to rebel. His conscience told him that his father was wrong, that having pure blood meant nothing. Granger certainly proved that to him time and time again. It was dangerous, but Draco sometimes let himself entertain fantasies of going to Potter, apologizing for antagonizing him, and asking for help. He would be accepted into Potter’s ranks and protected from the darkness his family name carried with it. On the surface, Draco looked every part the pureblood heir he was raised to be. Inside, he was in turmoil, and it was years too late to ask for Potter’s help.

Disheartened, Draco landed his broom and went to brood.

* * *

He appeared before the Dark Lord in regal black robes, tailored for him personally by the finest seamstress in Europe. They made him appear taller, broader in his shoulders, and far more imposing than he felt. They did, however, help him to apply his Malfoy mask and hide the terrified Draco deep inside himself.

His aunt’s mad cackle was the first sound to greet him as he entered the room. The Dark Lord sat in his father’s arm chair before the fire, speaking in hushed tones. His Aunt stood to his right, his mother to his left. At the sound of his entry, his mother turned and flashed him a reassuring look.

Draco stepped around the chair, watching from the corner of his eye as his mother’s hand twitched out towards him, and lowered himself to one knee before the Dark Lord, just as he had been trained.

“Young Malfoy, it truly is a gift to be the first of your generation to join the ranks of my Death Eaters. Many great wizards have come before you in my inner circle, including your own father. Now that he has been taken, you shall represent the honor and dignity of the Malfoy family to the world by bearing my Mark. This is an honor given to only the most deserving of my followers. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Draco replied, willing his voice to remain steady.

“Then rise, young Malfoy, and let us discuss the terms of this arrangement.” As Draco stood, the Dark Lord did the same, and Draco found himself nearly eye-to-eye with the greatest Dark Wizard since Grindelwald. His stomach quivered, and he put all his focus into keeping his face neutral.

“You will immediately be entered into my inner circle, and trained as such. Given that my most precious followers were taken last month, your aunt will be training you.”

“It would be an honor, my lord,” Bellatrix cooed, bowing her head to him.

The Dark Lord stepped around the chair, pacing the room. “You, young Malfoy, will provide an acute advantage to my cause. You will not only be able to persuade those around you to join my cause, but also work within the school in ways that not even Severus can do, for he is under too much scrutiny from those around him. You, on the other hand, can go largely unnoticed in the mass of students at Hogwarts. And I will need this kind of advantage in order for my plan to succeed.”

Quickly, the Dark Lord spun on his heel, his snake-like eyes running over Draco. “Tell me young Malfoy,” he spoke slyly, “who does Harry Potter look up to most?”

Draco thought for a moment of his cousin, the Black whose name he never bothered learning. No, they may have been close, but there was certainly someone else that Potter saw as a greater role model than he. “Dumbledore, my lord.”

“Yes, indeed. And where is the place that Harry Potter feels most at home? Most safe?”

“Hogwarts, my lord,” Draco answered without hesitation this time.

“Correct again. One final question. What group is currently the greatest threat to my power?”

“The Order of the Phoenix, my lord.”

“It is good to see that you understand this war.” The Dark Lord began to walk quickly towards Draco. “That is why I have devised a plan to completely upset the balance of Hogwarts, the Order, and Harry Potter all in one night.” His cold hand rested itself on Draco’s shoulder. “We, or more specifically  _ you,  _ young Malfoy, are going to kill Albus Dumbledore. It will completely destroy every net of safety and support that surrounds Harry Potter, leaving him entirely vulnerable to my influence.” The hand moved up to cup Draco’s neck. His thumb pressed itself into Draco’s pulse point, nearly giving him the sensation of choking. Draco fought to keep his breakfast in his stomach. “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, unable to speak. The Dark Lord’s lips split in a gruesome grin and his hand tightened on Draco’s throat. He swallowed reflexively.

“And now, Draco Malfoy, I will welcome you into the ranks of my closest followers, my most loyal supporters, and my greatest friends. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“Yes, my lord.” Draco’s voice was thin. “It would be an honor to follow in my father’s path and serve you.” The chilling grin widened as the hand released his throat. Draco took subtle deep breaths.

The hand instead fell to his left forearm, which the Dark Lord raised. He slid back Draco’s sleeve to reveal pale, bare skin. Already bracing himself for pain, Draco saw his mother and aunt move in closer, peering down at his arm.

The Dark Lord’s wand, the color of bone and cold to the touch, pressed itself against his skin.

“ _ Morsmordre,”  _ the Dark Lord spoke, and Draco burned. He felt the dark magic slice deep into his flesh, cauterizing it as it went. He grunted, but managed to keep his pain silent. He watched as the Dark Mark took shape on his arm, snake coiling from the mouth of a skull. His arm shook as his nerves were overloaded with the pain.

As soon as the shape in his arm was formed, the burning ceased. Instead, it felt as though a shard of ice was freezing its way up his arm and into his chest. It lodged itself into his heart, and he cried out against his will. His heart stopped, it must have, because his vision blacked out and he found himself on his knees, his arm still held up by the Dark Lord. His entire torso felt as though it was frozen in place. His breath would not come, his nauseous stomach could not even roll to expel its contents, as it surely would have otherwise. Draco could only move his jaw helplessly as the feeling extended, taking over his limbs, his throat, and finally his skull.

A roaring began in his ears, blocking out his surroundings. It sounded as though a thousand voices were whispering into his ear, their malicious tones invading his mind, cleansing it of rational thought. His vision flickered again as he lost air.

Suddenly, he was being held up by only a skeletal hand around his throat. His head was forced up until he looked up at the Dark Lord as though he was miles deep in the ocean. From within the slavery of his own body, he watched as the creature, for he was certainly no longer a man, smiled in his satisfaction.

“Now do you understand, boy?  _ I own you,”  _ he hissed at Draco. “I own your every thought, your every movement, your every  _ breath _ , and you  _ will _ submit to me.” And he released him.

Draco collapsed, unable to even catch himself with his arms, and his first breath was a sob. He lay boneless on the cold marble floor, and his stomach heaved, spilling in front of him. He could not comprehend what happened around him, his consciousness flickering as it was. He was only aware of the battle his body fought to recover, and the unbearable burning sting in his left arm. He was going to die, surely.

Merlin knew he wanted to.

When he was finally aware of his surroundings, he found himself in his room, in his own bed, undressed to a thin cotton shirt and his trousers. His arm still burned horribly, and he looked down to see it wrapped in bandages that were stained with unusually dark blood. The rest of him was drenched with sweat and tears. He slid his arms beneath himself, but failed to put any weight on them to push himself up. It only made his injured arm scream with pain. Draco whimpered, fresh tears blurring his vision.

Where was his mother? Why wasn’t she here for him now? He just wanted someone, anyone to come and help him. He wanted out. More than anything, he wanted to change his mind. But it was too late.

He needed someone. He needed someone who would accept him, mistakes and all, and help him to start over, to do better.

He needed Harry Potter.

Stupidly, desperately, he wished he could go back to that day on the train. He would do anything to get that handshake he was denied, to be accepted by the Boy Who Lived. He couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t kill Dumbledore. He couldn’t look Potter in the eyes and tell him that he had taken the Mark. But he needed out.

He sobbed, and his magic exploded around him. The lights flickered, dimming and brightening like flashes of lightning. He heard his heartbeat like a drum, echoing around him. Books flew from shelves, an ink pot shattered, sending glass and ink shooting across the room. Noctua hooted madly from her stand, lifting off to circle above the chaos Draco’s anguish was unleashing.

He needed a way out. He needed help, and there was only one person good enough, brave and chivalrous enough to give it to him. But that one person, that one boy, hated him.

“Please,” he choke-sobbed to whatever spirits or deities could hear him. “Please,  _ please  _ let me start over. I ca-, I can’t live like this anymore. Let me start over. I wish I could start over with Harry.”

A torrent of magic, white hot and violent, broke free from Draco and left him without his senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and let me know your thoughts on the story so far.  
> Next up, Harry wakes in an unfamiliar place.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @mobilicordis


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